


Keepin’ Up Appearances

by traumschwinge



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: Erik was content in his solitute. It was safe. Nobody expected any commitment on a personal level. Helikedit.At least, so he thought, before a party and an ill-thought out continuation of said party in his bed. The only problem is, the guy he’s stumbled into bed with is a cop.





	Keepin’ Up Appearances

Erik's first instinct upon waking was to run. His second, mere hammering heart-beats after the first, was to smother the man sleeping next to him with a cushion. Reason, which lagged behind by several deep breaths, reminded him that it had been his idea to go up to a private room after the party last night. Erik wiped the sweat off his upper lip with the back of his hand. It wasn't even all that warm in the bedroom and yet the sheets were clinging to his skin.

He needed to breathe. He fought his way out of the sheets, stumbled over some clothes he quickly scooped up, managed to get out the door without slamming it behind himself and then collapsed on the couch. The leather was cold against his bare skin. He shuddered.

What had even gotten into him the night before? It hadn't been the first time he'd felt lonely. It hadn't been the first time an attractive guy had tried to flirt with him. It had, however, been the first time in years he'd given in to temptation. He even actually, legally, owned the apartment they'd stumbled -- groping and kissing, his memory rather unhelpfully supplied -- into. This was stupid. He pushed his sweaty hair back. Worse than stupid. Reckless.

Recklessness was something he'd thought beneath him. He was though, he was sensible and he was ruthless. Recklessness didn't factor into the image he had of himself, the image he liked to project. Nor did lust. A long time friend -- or was she a foe? it was difficult to tell sometimes -- tended to call him both boring and, when she was feeling charitable with her limited sympathy, probably, likely, at the very least, demisexual. Erik had never listened much to that, mostly shrugging it off. But he had googled some of the words she'd used in the public anonymity of a public library. If she was wrong, he'd figured, he'd need details to point out just how wrong she was.

He blinked. This was definitely not the time to philosophize.  _ That _ was barely better than panicking. He didn't have time for either. And since there was no way to just sneak out after the ill-advised tumble -- he lived here, afterall, at least sometimes -- he could do the sensible thing. Which, probably, was taking a shower, putting on fresh clothes and making, if not breakfast, at least enough coffee to drown himself in.

As he snuck back into the bedroom to fetch fresh clothes, he risked a glance at the guy in his bed. The guy was still fast asleep, hiding under the covers and half a cushion and snoring softly. Erik remembered him being more drunk than Erik'd been himself the night before. Likely that he needed to sleep that off first.

The closet confronted him with a new problem. Erik was starting to suspect his hangover had come with a side of vengeance from his common sense for discarding it so carelessly the night before. While the closet did hold clothes, there was barely anything Erik thought appropriate. There were a lot of dress shirts, some suits, even shiny patent shoes on the floor. Finding a pair of jeans was a challenge and he had to give up on a t-shirt that wasn't plain black or white altogether. He also managed to unearth a gray hoodie and baggy pants he wouldn't wear if they were the last piece of clothing in the world. But they might fit the guy on the bed and that meant he could take last night's clothes from both of them and have them dry-cleaned.

 

Washing away the sweat, grime and other stuff from the night before felt heavenly. Erik kept standing under the warm shower for longer than strictly necessary, enjoying how the water washed away some of the knots and tensions he felt. Nothing looked as bad as it had been before when he came out of the shower. He could handle the situation. This was just one of his apartments. He could just sell it, even though it was nice and convenient and he didn't really want to. He still had other places. Or he could decide to keep the guy around for a while. That'd save him the embarrassment of a repeat of this situation. 

Erik got dressed in the jeans and t-shirt before he left the bathroom, the bad taste in his mouth brushed away with minty toothpaste and his freshly washed hair combed back and still sticking to his head with moisture. Back in the living room, he went to sort their clothes. His first impression had been right, they all smelled ripe and most had stains. He neatly picked the shirts out and put them over the back of the couch, followed by his own dress pants and the guy's jeans after he’d habitually emptied the pockets. He hadn't been wearing a jacket at the party the night before, but the guy had. It was an old, off the rack thing. For a moment, as he went through the pockets, Erik considered just throwing it away. That was, until his hand closed around a thin leather wallet in the inner chest pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open.

**_ShitshitshitshitSHIT_ **

Erik could feel the blood leaving his face. He could hear it rushing from his head. He sat back on the couch, feeling faint all of a sudden. Shit, shit, shit. The thought kept repeating over and over again in his mind. Stupid. Reckless. Worse.

Unseeing, he stared at the police badge in his hand.

He should have smothered the guy when he'd woken up. It wasn't too late to do that yet. Only, it was even stupider, wasn't it? Murdering a policeman. That'd get him an investigation by well-motivated detectives. The guy was only a detective with the local police. Not FBI. Erik took a deep breath. Maybe it was all a big coincidence. He was smarter than to deal with an inconvenience with murder. He should find out what the guy knew about him. Maybe he could even convince the detective that he was a man of honor, doing only legal business and being good at it. He did enough on the right side of the law to be able to fake it for a while. And, Erik took a deep breath, the sex hadn't been too bad. They could do that again, if he had to. He could act. It was a bit thrilling, if he was honest with himself. Exhilarating, even. Charming a detective who might be after him or at least some mobster at the party on the night before. It was a challenge. And Erik liked challenges.

He shoved the wallet in his pocket, before calling one of henchmen up to pick up the dry-cleaning.

 

It took until Erik's second mug of blessed hot coffee before he heard noises from the bedroom indicating that the guy--James, his wallet had informed Erik--was waking up. Erik did nothing about that, even though he itched to go and see what the detective was doing alone in his bedroom. Instead, he remained sitting at the kitchen table and nipped on his coffee. After a while, the bedroom door opened.

“Good morning,” Erik greeted.

James had found the pants and hoodie Erik had picked out for him and was wearing them now, the hood pulled up. He looked hung over. He also sounded hung over when he groaned, “How come you're all up 'n chipper?”

Erik smiled brightly. “It's called coffee.” He got up and walked over to the old drip coffee maker to pour a mug for James. When he turned back around James was sitting at the table, forehead resting on his arms and looking miserable. Erik almost felt sorry for the guy.

“You alright?” Erik asked as he carefully put the mug on the table. In response he only got a groan. 

“Try the coffee?”

Another groan.

“Or you could take a shower if you want,” Erik ventured. “That might help against the hangover. At least, it should make you feel better.” He sighed. “Listen, I have to pick up our clothes from the dry cleaner, I could fetch breakfast while I'm out.”

That got James to briefly raise his head. “Where're m’ clothes?”

“Dry cleaner,” Erik repeated. “They were filthy.”

For a moment, there was a spark in James’ eyes and the flash of a smirk. “Filthy, huh?”

“Sticky and stained.” Erik was smirking too. He could get used to this smug, dry humor.

James nodded thoughtfully. Then, he pulled a face, holding his head. “And that breakfast you mentioned?”

“Bagels?” Erik offered. “Or I could whip us something up, like fried eggs and bacon.”

James squinted at him. “Yer awfully nice to a one night stand like me.”

Erik laughed. “I'm trying to cover that I forgot your name.” He cleared his throat. Charme, he reminded himself, Charme him. “And…” He looked aside, playing his bashfulness up to the max. “I've not done this in a long time. I… I'm not sure how I'm supposed to behave, to be honest.”

“It's Logan,” James said. Erik stiffened, not daring to look at James. So he was lying right from the get go. It made Erik's stomach turn slightly. “Well,” James went on. “It's actually James. But no one calls me that.”

Erik let out a breath he hadn't notice he had been holding. “Erik,” he said. “Just in case you forgot, too.”

James pulled his mouth into a crooked smile. “Erik,” he repeated, his voice low and husky. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Erik grumbled, turning his head away from James. He didn't like to admit it, but the sound of James’ voice was sending shivers down his spine. It was a strange and not entirely welcome feeling.

“I'd challenge you to make me,” James sighed into his mug of coffee. “But I don't think the hangover'd like that. Where was that shower you mentioned?”

Erik looked back at James. He did look miserably hungover, so much so that Erik even felt a little sympathetic. “Other door in the bedroom,” he replied. “There's shampoo and bodywash in the shower and fresh towels under the sink.”

James nodded slightly. “Gonna go once I'm done with this.” He raised his mug.

“Take your time.” Erik stood. “Anything I should avoid for breakfast?”

“No,” James smirked. “I'm an omnivore.”

 

When Erik returned from the quick run to the dry cleaner--which had terrified the poor guy behind the counter who’d thought he were in serious trouble--and the bakery where he had to insist on paying, the apartment was suspiciously quiet. No sound of the shower, no rustling. Nothing. Erik listened intently, but still couldn’t hear a thing.

Maybe James had left after all. Just gave up on his clothes in exchange for Erik’s hoodie and pants. Ran away because he knew who Erik was and didn’t want to deal with that. Or worse he could have found some proof that Erik had forgotten about. A SWAT team would be on their way now. 

Erik supported himself against the wall with one hand. He was not panicking again. He couldn’t be. Just what was wrong with him?

Suddenly, there was the sound of a running tap. Then, steps. Erik pulled himself together. So James hadn’t left after all. That was good, wasn’t it. He stood up straight again, hiding that he’d panicked mere moments ago under his usual mask. He slipped James’ wallet back in the inner pocket of the jacket. Everything as it should be. He dropped the two sets of clothes over the back of the couch and went to the kitchen.

Holding a knife had always helped him feel grounded. Even if it was just a bread knife. He buttered some slices of bread before dropping them into a heated pan. While the bread was toasting, he went to the fridge and took out everything he needed for an omelette. He hadn’t even finished cutting the vegetables when James walked out of the bedroom.

James whistled. “When you offered breakfast I didn’t think you’d cook some actual breakfast!” He rubbed the back of his neck.”Can I help?”

“I…” Erik looked down at the bowl in his hands. “I did go a bit too far didn’t I?”

James shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He was grinning again. “Now that my head’s stopped poundin’ I’m starving.”

“Good thing I’m almost done then, huh?” Erik fished the bread out of the pan and replaced it with a bit of oil before adding the egg mixture. He could feel James walking around behind him by the raised hairs of his neck. James was doing something but he didn’t dare to turn around. It would seem too suspicious.

“Coffee?” James suddenly asked. “I put on a new pot before I hopped in the shower.” When Erik didn’t react, he held the refilled mug of coffee under Erik’s nose. “You alright there, bub?”

“‘m fine,” Erik rumbled. “I’m good, really.” He took the mug and held it up to his mouth.

“Hey.” James leaned against the kitchen next to the stove. “Uh. I can’t remember much from last night… Ah. But… you look like you could do with… y’know…” He shook his head. “If I did something you didn’t like… I mean. You could just kick me out, no hard feelings.”

Now, Erik did turn around. This wasn’t good, it didn’t feel good at all. He was getting the impression he could like James with some time. “I don’t-“ He shook his head. “I don’t mind you staying.” He shrugged. “I’m just not good with people. In private.” That was close to the truth.

James nodded, humming to himself. “You did say that before.”

Erik shrugged, again. This was complicated. He started poking the omelette with a spatula.

“I could give you, dunno, pointers, if that makes it easier?” James suggested. He’d moved over to the table and was leaning against it with his arms crossed.

Erik’s hand clenched around the spatula. “I… now, you make it sound like this was, well, more than a one night stand,” he tried to make light of it.

“Could be. Yer cute, bub.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t call a grown man cute.”

“Well. But you are.” James shrugged unapologetically. “I’ll give you my number. You could call me if you want to see me again. Or you could just drop it in the trash if you don’t.” He patted himself down for a pen, noticed he was still in the borrowed clothes and helped himself to the pad Erik used for shopping lists.

Erik sighed. He put the breakfast on two plates. He would definitely not call James he promised himself. 


End file.
